Tick, Tock, Goes the Clock
by jellinor
Summary: A collection of Pandora Hearts one-shots. Ninth story: Teach Me, Gilbert-sensei! Or otherwise known as 'The One in Which Oz Wants to Learn How to Fight'
1. Tick, Tock, Goes the Clock

Author's Note: Seriously clever, thoroughly creepy and best served up in its original form as a nursery rhyme, this is a minor _Pandora Hearts_ and _Doctor Who_ crossover that was just meant to be.

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pandora Hearts_ or _Doctor Who_.

* * *

**Tick, Tock, Goes the Clock**

#

He never knew, but supposedly there is an inscription on the old bell in the clock tower.

Or so Zai _claims_ – in his usual monotone, calmly and with a perfectly straight face – as they sit in the library with a cup each of yet untouched evening tea, pretending that it is perfectly normal for them to be this civil to one another, and that in the quiet of the upstairs master bedroom, Father isn't slowly dying.

Oscar regards his older brother warily. But he doesn't ask nor is he told _which_ clock tower, exactly, because even though Oscar feels certain that there are plenty of faulty clockworks around, there is only one that truly matters.

"...why wasn't I told?" he mutters at last, reluctantly giving in to his curiosity, because surely even Zai isn't such a heartless bastard that he would try something at a time like this.

"And is there any reason why you should?" counters Zai easily, and in his voice are all the reasons why Oscar would_n't_ have been told: because you are the younger son and the _spare_ to Zai's _heir_. Because Gryphon nearly _killed_ you when you tried to form a contract with him, remember? Because you have been rejected by so many lesser Chains that even the large number of heiresses, and their opportunistic fathers, snubbed by Zai pales in comparison. Because you went against your own father's wishes and married for _love_, almost getting yourself disowned in the process.

Because _you_, brother mine, are _Oscar_ and a bumbling idiot and a _failure_ in so many ways.

Zai says all that without saying anything at all, and Oscar laughs a bit uncomfortably, because even though Zai is _mean_ and always will be _mean_, he is also brutally honest; and when he puts it like _that_, Oscar supposes that it really _is_ sort of true, isn't it?

(But even then, he regrets nothing. Oscar makes his own choices in life – good and bad – and he stands by every single one of them on the grounds that they are only his to make. And he suspects that this makes him a far happier man than Zai will ever be.)

"Then why tell me now?"

He gets a long, calculating look in return, and Oscar thinks that he stopped understanding his brother a long time ago. "Father is unlikely to last the night," Zai says, finally, as if that alone explained everything; and perhaps it does. "The other Dukedoms are growing impatient. They expect a new Duke Vessalius within the hour."

Oscar nods grimly. Duke Barma has hardly left them alone since Father's illness took a turn for the worse, though that was only to be expected. But even the discreet Rainsworth Duchess eventually found it necessary to infiltrate the household with members of her own loyal staff, undoubtedly under some polite pretext or another, in order to remain informed about their exact movements – and, as always, one step ahead.

"As I am sure that even _you_ are aware," continues his brother smoothly. "The Clock Tower of Silence only came about _after_ the Tragedy of Sablier, nearly one hundred years ago."

Oscar frowns. "Of course, but what has that got to do with—"

"The inscription, however..." Zai lowers his voice. "Nobody knows for certain."

He doesn't know why, but Oscar is holding his breath when his older brother suddenly pulls a sealed envelope from his pocket and the gryphon crest gleams in the warm light from the fireplace.

"Be sure to learn it by heart, little brother."

The envelope is placed on the table in front of him.

"And once you have, you will burn it to ash, understood?"

Oscar blinks. "Yes, I understand. But—"

"Good." Zai rises from his chair. "That is all."

"W-Where are you going?" calls Oscar after him, infinitely more worried about his brother's strange request and even stranger behaviour than he would like to let on. "Zai-niisan!"

Zai's hand briefly comes to rest on one of the heavy door handles. "Out," he replies over his shoulder just as the double doors fall shut behind him.

Oscar stares into the fire for a long, long time, muttering obscenities under his breath, because how dares Zai – how _dares_ he, who is both Father's heir and favoured son, the contractor of one of the legendary Five Black Winged Chains, and not to mention Oscar's idiot big brother – leave Oscar on his own like this? What with Father on his _deathbed_, and the staff expecting orders and reassurance from _somewhere_; and with Rufus _bloody_ Barma (and who knows _whose_ servants) roaming freely around the estate no less!

But soon curiosity gets the better of him once again, and when the wax seal crumbles under his fingernails, it falls on the white tablecloth like flakes of dried blood.

Admittedly, the content of the envelope _does_ surprise him a little, but Oscar isn't a Vessalius for nothing and takes it in his stride the best that he can. He is, however, certainly not in a learning mood; so instead of destroying the envelope and its contents like instructed, Oscar locks it away inside his private desk. He never was any good at memorization, anyway.

Oscar puts the key in his pocket, squares his shoulders and leaves the safety of the library to face the household with as much confidence and cheer as he can muster. Then, he waits: for his brother to return, or for his father to leave, whichever comes first.

It turns out to be Father.

The elderly Duke Vessalius dies in the early hours of the morning, and he goes with a pale smile on his thin lips. Oscar would like to imagine that it is for greeting Mother in Heaven, but in his heart of hearts, he seriously doubts it. The old man was a cold bastard, colder even than Zai, who incidentally does not turn up at the main house until high noon, at which point the other Dukes have since long grown restless from the wait while Oscar and the rest of the household are nearly beside themselves with worry.

Oscar's heart has barely settled back into a reasonable rhythm when Zai unceremoniously drops the next bomb. And before he knows it, Oscar is welcomed into Pandora as the next Duke Vessalius.

.

.

_Tick, tock, goes the clock,_  
_And what now shall we play?_  
_Tick, tock, goes the clock,_  
_Now summer's gone away._

_Tick, tock, goes the clock,_  
_And what now shall we see?_  
_Tick, tock, until the day_  
_That thou shalt marry me._

_Tick, tock, goes the clock,_  
_And all the years they fly._  
_Tick, tock, and all too soon_  
_You and I must die._

_Tick, tock, goes the clock,_  
_We laughed at Fate and mourned her._  
_Tick, tock, goes the clock,_  
_Even for the Master's keeper._

_Tick, tock, goes the clock,_  
_He cradled her and rocked her._  
_Tick, tock, goes the clock,_  
_'Til only Chains remain for River._

_Tick, tock, goes the clock,_  
_He gave her all he could give her._  
_Tick, tock, goes the clock,_  
_Now and until Forever._

_The Chosen One, brave and good,_  
_He turned away from violence._  
_Once bloodied understood,_  
_The Falling of the Silence._

_Tick, tock, goes the clock._  
_Tick, tock, stops the clock._

.

.

* * *

End note: Did you know that 'Zai' (as in Zai Vessalius) means 'River'?


	2. Bone China

Author's Note: Break's thoughts on the littlest Rainsworth lady. Set post-Cheshire adventure.

Disclaimer: I claim ownership to neither _Pandora Hearts_ nor the exquisite Wedgewood china.

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**Bone China**

#

There is a soft clink as she puts down her teacup on its saucer, and he notes with sudden, if belated approval that the maids have chosen the blue Wedgewood set for their afternoon tea.

Normally, he isn't the type to pay much attention to porcelain, or to show it any kind of appreciation (though that is certainly not from a lack of trying from various members of the household to make it otherwise), mostly because he is far more interested in the sweet delights gracing the surface to dwell very long on the rich designs underneath. But today is not normal. Today is different, and their first real get-together since that incident with Gilbert's despicable vermin for a brother; and even though she has recovered sufficiently from the ordeal to no longer require constant bed rest, she looks paler and many times more fragile than usual as she sits across from him, and he _knows_ _knows_ _knows_ that this Wedgewood service is her favourite.

He knows, because she used to confide such pretty, petty things to him once upon a time. It is not yet so far into the distant past that he has forgotten the way she would beckon him down to her level and whisper her secrets in his ear (because even now, Kevin Regnard remembers _everything_), but certainly far enough for his young charge (and second chance at life) to have grown older, wiser and thoroughly embarrassed of her childhood confessions.

The tea set is, of course, perfectly charming. Although that is only to be expected from an object treasured by a Rainsworth; delicate but strong, as is only the finest quality bone china, it was supposedly gifted to her mother's mother's mother by a lovesick British nobleman and _such_ a romantic gesture in its own way, didn't Xerx-niisan agree?

To which twice-contracted Xerxes Break had just smiled politely. It went without saying that his perception of love differed quite severely from hers, but even so he must admit that the gift at least was strangely appropriate. After all, he knew better than most that Rainsworth ladies were a lot like bone china: delicate but _strong_.

(Oh yes, make no mistake. So very, _very_ strong.)

And at twenty-three years young, and peacefully sipping her tea, Sharon is very much a Rainsworth lady.


	3. Question

Author's Note: Set during the carriage ride in Chapter 5: Clockwise Doom. Gill catches Oz staring and is asked a rather interesting question.

Disclaimer: _Pandora Hearts_ does not belong to me.

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**Question**

#

Gilbert Nightray was leaning back against the plush carriage seat, head slightly bowed and arms folded loosely in front of him, seemingly fast asleep and appearing mostly at peace with the world for a change.

Except, he wasn't asleep at all, nor was he feeling particularly peaceful despite the strange, unexpected and wholly terrifying events of late. That _he_ was back and real and fairly safe, and just an arm's length away should something dare to happen. In fact, beneath the carefully constructed facade of calm, closed eyes and complete indifference, Gilbert Nightray was practically squirming, just itching to pull the trigger at something – _anything_ – in hope of ridding himself of the worst of the damn tension.

Not that this was an entirely unfamiliar feeling. Shortly after he had formed his contract with Raven and finally been permitted to enter the inner circles of Pandora, Break had taken it upon himself to explain – unasked, and in a much too cheerful tone of voice to appear entirely trustworthy – that it was perfectly normal for a young man of Gilbert's age to get those sorts of irrepressible urges once in a while. And even though Gilbert trusted Xerxes Break no further than he could throw him, which wasn't very far due to the simply obscene amount of candy the Mad Hatter insisted on lugging around on his person, he had grudgingly come to accept that being contracted indeed _did something_ to people.

(Oh yes. Gilbert knew. But then he had been staring into the Abyss for a long, long time.)

And presently, a considerable chunk of jittery, murderous intent was directed squarely at the stupid rabbit, who was more or less draped over the blonde boy sitting next to her, somehow taking up more space than Gilbert had thought physically possible for something so small and so utterly annoying.

He couldn't explain it, and he really wasn't keen on trying, but absolutely everything about her seemed to be mocking him, and he definitely wouldn't put it past the devious Chain that she was deliberately provoking him: shamelessly sprawled across Oz as if she owned him and snoring softly in her sleep, which sent wisps of dark hair all over the place, she somehow managed to look both vulnerable and harmless – and _human_ – in a way he knew she wasn't and couldn't ever hope to be.

But at least she was quiet, and Gilbert supposed that that alone was reason enough not to press the cold barrel of a gun to her temple and breathe new life into the fight.

Besides, he doubted that Oz would approve.

Oz, who was Gilbert's Young Master/number one childhood tormentor/best friend/idol, and whose disappearance into the Abyss at the hands of his own father forced Gilbert to grow up overnight and abandon everything to become a Nightray, somebody's brother and Raven.

Oz, who had come back to the world – without warning and completely unchanged in all ways imaginable – some ten years later with the damn _B-Rabbit _in tow.

Oz, who still had no idea whatsoever that Raven was Gilbert was Gil was a Nightray and the _enemy_ now, and just one shallow breath short of a monster.

Oz, who even after all this time was sunshine and rainbows and whiskers on kittens, and who was staring blankly at Gilbert's face with an expression that the same ladies who considered Vincent 'dreamy', most certainly would have agreed was disturbingly wistful.

And Gilbert, who was absolutely _none_ of the above things (with the possible exception of the downpour preceding the rainbow, or the angry red scratches left behind by razor-sharp, feline claws) and who shunned attention like the plague that it was, instead preferring to hide in Vincent's shadow and under Ada's hat, was just about _wilting_. But since it was _Oz_, Gilbert initially felt strongly obliged to suck it up and tough out the staring in silence.

That, however, had been nearly seven, long miles ago; and with Oz showing no signs of stopping, Gilbert's nerves were slowly falling apart under the massive strain of being watched.

"_What_?" he snapped at last, whole body jerking upwards.

Oz blinked confusedly. "Huh?"

"You're _staring_," replied Gilbert through gritted teeth, careful not to wake the sleeping Chain. "At me," he added with a small scowl. "Why?"

"Oh." Oz laughed embarrassedly. "I guess you caught me."

Gilbert eyed the fifteen-going-on-twenty-five-year-old suspiciously. "Why?" he repeated, suddenly extremely worried, because that stupid rabbit had bounced around the carriage a _lot_ earlier. "...do I have something on my face?"

The boy quickly shook his head in denial.

Gilbert sat back, somewhat reassured. "Then what is it?"

And for the first time perhaps ever, Gilbert saw the Young Master flustered. "It's a bit embarrassing," said Oz quietly. "But you sort of remind me of someone."

Gilbert sighed inwardly. But then he _would_ remind Oz of someone, wouldn't he, considering that the 'someone' Oz was alluding to in fact was a younger version of Gilbert himself.

"Raven?"

Gilbert regarded Oz closely from under the safety of his hat. "Yes?"

"I hope you don't mind me asking..." Oz was now looking everywhere inside the carriage except at Gilbert. "But do you have any siblings?"

The question had been thrown out there casually enough, but Gilbert wasn't such a moron that he didn't immediately understand what Oz actually meant to ask. Still, the thought of Oz thinking that Gilbert might be an older sibling to _himself_ was outlandish enough to force his eyebrows ceiling-ward and a sufficient amount of genuine surprise into his voice when he answered fire with fire.

"What brought this on, all of a sudden?"

Oz shrugged. "I guess I'm just curious."

"In that case..." Gilbert lit a cigarette. "Yes. I have a younger brother."

"Really?" Oz was fairly vibrating with excitement. "A _younger_ brother? What—"

"His name is Vincent," interrupted Gilbert quickly. It was only the truth, but it was going to hurt to see Oz's face fall all the same. "He's a year younger than I."

Oz was silent for a moment. Then he forced a too-bright smile over his lips. "Ne, I wonder if he's tall and scary-looking like you~" he sang before gently petting the full head of long hair nestled on his lap.

"Oi, who do you call scary?" growled Gilbert automatically, relieved when Oz waved it off with another fake smile and things finally went back to a level of abnormal that Gilbert could deal with.

Gilbert Nightray sighed to himself, quietly tracing the soft curls of smoke rising between his fingers.

This was going to be a long mission.


	4. Rabbit Food

Author's Note: Let's imagine for a moment that Oz and the gang actually got around to that dinner they were out buying groceries for, right before Oz meets Phillip West. Alice _is_ the B-Rabbit, after all, and such she has certain needs... Sorry for any and all OOCness. The plot bunny pretty much went to town with this one.

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pandora Hearts_.

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**Rabbit Food**

#

"Oi~!" drawled a voice lazily from behind him on the sofa, which – until only a few, precious days ago – had been exclusively _his_ sofa and nobody else's.

Not Vincent's. Not Break's. And especially – especially – not hers.

"Are we eating soon or what?"

And yet there she was, proudly radiating an unholy level of confidence that Gilbert couldn't help but to just slightly envy her for, and positively _spreading_ throughout the expanse of his modest apartment like a particularly aggressive strain of household mould.

Gilbert Nightray, scion of the Nightray Dukedom and contracted to its legendary Chain, survivor expert _extraordinaire_ and recently voted fourth most eligible bachelor in Reveille, fairly shuddered under his apron.

And the worst part was that he only had himself to blame, because even after ten years of waiting and hoping, Gilbert never stopped being Gil and Oz never stopped being Bocchan; and with the unfortunate unveiling of Alice as Bocchan's Chain, Gilbert grudgingly felt somehow obliged to look out for her, too. It didn't exactly help that his rearing (though not completely noble in nature for obvious reasons) was refined enough to leave him especially vulnerable to damsels in distress: even the borderline cases, where the damsel in question in fact was wholly responsible for her own distress, or when she just happened to be a stupid, violent, mostly defenceless rabbit girl. Like now.

Besides, it wasn't as if he were about to forgive Xerxes Break for that little stunt up at the old Vessalius estate anytime soon.

(_Oz_… Gilbert's heart clenched painfully at the mere thought. _Oz could have_ _died_.)

Gilbert tightened his grip around the kitchen knife in his hand, visualizing the Mad Hatter's stupid face on the peeled potato sitting defenceless on the cutting board in front of him, before savagely cutting into it.

"Hurry it up already, I'm starving!"

Gilbert quietly ground his teeth, and chucked the finely-diced remains of Xerxes Break the Potato Face into the pot. Granted that she _was_ the infamous B-Rabbit, Scourge of the Abyss, Alice sure wasn't behaving as if she were – always complaining, always running off on her own and always, _always_ so damn _hungry_ – and this made her not only extremely troublesome, but also a _lot_ like a very spoiled, very _human_ brat.

...speaking of which, where _was_ Oz anyway?

"Where's Oz?" demanded Gilbert, a bit gruffly, because it still felt wrong to just use Bocchan's given name freely like that.

"You mean that useless manservant," huffed the Chain distastefully, tapping the heel of her shoe against the wooden floorboards none too gently. "He's out."

Gilbert immediately stopped cutting up vegetables. "Out?" he repeated in an attempt to properly process this new, crucial piece of information. "Oz is _out_?"

"Yeah," replied Alice impatiently. "What about it?"

Gilbert finally turned around, stiff as a board and with large, panic-stricken eyes, still brandishing his knife in one hand and a carrot in the other. "Oz is out?!" he screeched, gesticulating wildly. "And you... you _let_ him?"

Alice looked unimpressed. "Like I could do anything about it," she said, prodding at the limp lump curled up next to her and fast asleep. "See? Out like a light."

Gilbert stared first at the Chain smirking triumphantly at him, then at the mass of blonde hair spilling onto the black cushioned seat, quickly put two and two together and promptly wished for the carpet to rise up and swallow him whole when—

"What's that?"

He blinked. "What's what?"

She pointed at his right hand. "That."

"This?" Gilbert asked, and the Chain nodded. "It's a carrot."

"Acarrot," repeated Alice, slowly, before scrunching up her nose. "That's stupid," she declared.

"Not 'acarrot'," corrected Gilbert her smugly, pretending that he wasn't savouring the moment. "Just carrot. Ca-_rrot_."

Alice crossed her arms over her chest. "Che. That's even more stupid."

Gilbert rolled his eyes and was just about to turn his attention back to their dinner, when the Chain demanded, "...well? So what is it?"

"Stupid rabbit, I already told you! It's a _carrot_."

"You're a stupid seaweed head!" she shot back. "What is it _for_?"

"For? The carrot? Nothing." Gilbert sighed impatiently. "Well, you eat it. It's food."

"That is _food_?" asked the Chain, eyeing the vegetable sceptically. "But it's so bright!"

Gilbert took a good look at the carrot in his hand, and silently agreed that its orange glow _was_ rather disturbing. Then, he threw it at her.

"Seaweed Head!" roared Alice, and Oz turned over in his sleep. "What's this, huh? You wanna fight?!"

Gilbert smirked. "Scared?"

Alice glared, sniffing at the carrot suspiciously. "If I die, I'll kill you," she said coldly.

Gilbert scoffed, but refrained from pointing out the most obvious flaw in her stupid logic.

(What, _she_? _Alice_? Kill _him_? _That_ stupid rabbit? As _if_.)

It wasn't until he had finally added the meat that he heard the first, tentative crunch.

Then, a little while later, Gilbert found Alice staring into space, a piece of carrot between her teeth. "Hey Raven…" she said, chewing thoughtfully. "This stuff is actually pretty good."


	5. Bernice

Author's Note: I'm not too sure about this one to be honest, because it pretty much wrote itself. But Bernice Nightray was a mother before she became a crazy lady, and I think something ought to be said about that. The story set very shortly after Gilbert's adoption into the Nightray family, so I was forced to play around with everyone's ages a bit, and told from Bernice's point of view.

Disclaimer: I don't claim any rights to _Pandora Hearts_.

* * *

**Bernice**

#

Bernice Nightray was not a vain woman and she never had been – not even when she was still young, foolish and Bernice St John, youngest daughter to the Count and Countess St John – which was just as well in a way, because she had learnt early on in her marriage to Bernard Nightray that a broodmare of the Nightrays could not afford to be. But she was fiercely proud of _them_ – her children – and to know that they lived, breathed and flourished was to know that all was well in the world.

...in her world, at least, because she doubted very much that her husband would agree. But then, they never seemed to agree on things anymore and Bernard had become so very distant as of late.

The Nightray Duchess smiled ruefully to herself, gently caressing the soft blonde locks splayed over the pillow in her lap. He was concerned about the Dukedom, she knew, and so very anxious to succeed where his ancestors had failed. But even so, she wished that he just this once could forsake the loneliness of his gloomy office to be with her – _with all of them_ – because what did Pandora matter, or even Raven, in comparison?

It was so rare to have the six of them under her wing all at once, and she was determined to enjoy their company to the fullest:

There was her Fredrick – strong, reliable Fredrick, who was his father's heir and foremost pride, and her own first joy – and darling Claude – quiet, serious Claude, who looked so much like his father – seated by one of the large windows, in deep conversation with one another and an unfinished game of chess between them. And Ernest – _Ernest_ – her mischievous, golden boy who could do no wrong even in the eyes of the sternest of tutors – was twirling around the room with little Elliot – everyone's favourite and already quite spoiled for attention – in his arms, filling it to the brim with his laughter. Then, perched on the sofa opposite hers and hardly taking the time to breathe for all the excitement, was pretty Vanessa – gangly adolescent limbs, piercing blue eyes and _stories_ – freshly arrived home from her first term at the Academy and still clad in her school uniform, proudly showing off the small pin on her lapel that identified her as a member of the fencing team. Oh! and dear Vincent, of course – her husband's foundling – who she held as close in her heart as if he had been her own, quietly pushing against her fingers every now and then, as to remind her of his presence. It was the only sign of affection he allowed, and then only from her.

It was only then that she noticed the awkward presence of her seventh – and newest – child in the doorway.

"Gilbert!" she called over the noise, carefully beckoning him towards her. Vincent had been so very skittish at first, and his brother by birth was no different. "Come inside."

"Gil~!" chimed Vincent in, as all eyes turned to the young boy at the door. "Come on! Don't make Bernice-sama wait!"

The child's golden eyes were large when he obediently stepped over the threshold.


	6. Guns & Knives

Author's Note: Elliot sets out to educate Leo in the fine art of being a proper servant, but is forced to admit that Leo just might be a lost cause.

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pandora Hearts_.

* * *

**Guns & Knives**

#

"Elliot..." Leo regarded the impressive pile of weaponry on the ground with much scepticism. "This is a _really_ bad idea. And where did you even get all this junk?"

"It's not junk!" protested Elliot hotly, deeply offended. "These are valuable heirlooms handed down for gener—"

"Alright, I get it." Leo picked up a sword, awkwardly holding it out in front of him. "So what am I supposed to do with this, then?"

The youngest of the Nightrays felt genuinely lost for a moment, because wasn't it obvious? "...well, you know, _fight_. Surely everyone knows that."

Leo scoffed. "Elliot, just in case you have forgotten, I grew up at an orphanage," he deadpanned. "I spent most of my time there reading books, playing the piano and doing laundry."

Elliot rolled his eyes at Leo's blatant lack of cooperation, but pushed on nonetheless. "Look," he said, "if you're serious about being my servant, then you should at least know how to protect me."

Leo nearly rolled _his_ eyes behind the thick lenses of his glasses, about to point out that Elliot had pushed the whole servant thing on Leo all by himself – not to mention that if what Elliot truly wanted were a bodyguard, then he was all the more a fool for picking someone like Leo for the job in the first place! – when he reminded himself of the Nightray family's vast collection of books.

"Okay." He sighed in defeat. "Now what?"

"Come at me," replied Elliot smugly. "We'll go from there."

Then without warning, he drew his own sword, and spooked by the sudden movement, Leo tensed and _swung_, eyes screwed tightly shut.

Elliot yelped. "W-What the hell, Leo! You bastard! You can't just swing and hope for the best, damn you! Have you no shame?!"

Leo blinked; Elliot was flat out on his back, Leo's sword lodged deeply into the ground, dangerously close to his left ear. "Oh. Uh, I'm sorry?" he tried as he bent down to help Elliot to his feet. "I _told_ you that this was a bad idea."

"...right." Elliot scratched the back of his head, still feeling a bit shaky from his near-death experience. "Let's try guns."


	7. Boys Will Be Boys

Author's Note: Well, Gilbert _did_ say that he had been plenty harassed by Break over the years.

Disclaimer: _Pandora Hearts_ is not mine.

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**Boys Will Be Boys**

#

A lone, much anguished roar reverberated throughout the Rainsworth mansion, thus shattering the peace and quiet of an unusually tranquil and uneventful afternoon; and it was soon accompanied by the unmistakable cackling of one Xerxes Break, and the furious running of feet.

Sharon Rainsworth duly took note of the sudden commotion, but continued to calmly sip her morning tea, displaying no immediate outwards signs of concern.

_"Ohohohohohoho~! That's quite a look on him, isn't it, Emily~?"_

_"Sh-Shut up!"_

It was only after several gunshots that she finally put down her teacup on its saucer with decisive clink.

_"Oh Gil~! So handsome~!"_

_"Break, don't you dare—"_

_"Kyaaah~! Catch me if you can, Gilbert-samaaa~!"_

_"BREAK!"_

She smiled and pulled out her trusty harisen just as door to the parlour was pulled open with so much force that it was nearly torn clean off its hinges. Break stormed in, Gilbert not far behind.

The latter seemed to be _sparkling_ in a most unsettling way.

"Ojou-sama~!" Break sang gleefully. "I brought you a present~"

"Sharon!" shouted Gilbert desperately. "D-Don't look!"

Sharon sighed inwardly, but she obediently closed her eyes. Poor Gilbert sounded like he was about to have a panic attack.

(Honestly, _boys_.)

Then she let her paper fan fly.


	8. Private Eye

Author's Note: This one is AU like whoa, though to my defence, it seemed like a good idea at the time. You see, Gilbert can't keep from worshiping Oz, Elliot can't keep from talking in caps lock and Oz can't keep from being too cute, no matter what universe I stick them in.

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pandora Hearts_.

* * *

**Private Eye**

#

It was a cold night in the big city. It was the kind of night that got under your skin like too much hand moisturizer, but without any of the added health benefits and smelling a whole lot less of strawberries and cream. Or so my brother Vincent says. Anyway, I had just finished up the case filings for our last call: some pretty little thing being stalked by your typical Levi B. Perv. The whole thing ended in a shoot-out and I almost ruined my hat.

So here I was, ready to punch in and hit the hay after a hard day's work. But, you see, the thing about night like these... well, it is nights like these that bring the biggest trouble of them all.

Elliot suddenly poked his head into the dingy office. "Hey Gil—" He stopped, took a good look at the man all but collapsed in the chair, cigarette between his lips and both feet propped up on the desk in front of him, then inhaled deeply and roared, "GILBERT! YOU LOOK LIKE HELL! YOU'VE BEEN WORKING TOO HARD AGAIN, HAVEN'T YOU! GO GET SOME REST ALREADY, YOU JERK! AND STOP SMOKING! IT'S BAD FOR YOU! WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CLEANED UP THIS DUMP, YOU'LL GIVE YOURSELF ALLERGIES AT THIS RATE! HOW _DARE_ YOU CALL YOURSELF A PRIVATE DETECTIVE WHEN YOU CAN'T EVEN TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF? HAVE YOU NO SHAME?!"

"...sorry," muttered Gilbert guiltily from under his hat, as usual completely overwhelmed by the depth of Elliot's caring and the power of his vocal chords.

"Yeah whatever," huffed Elliot gruffly. It was embarrassing as hell to admit that he worried about the stupid idiot, but at least this little outburst took care of Elliot's entire weekly quota of Brotherly Love and Affection all at once. "Anyway, I thought you should know that some blonde just walked in looking pretty flustered. Looks like you've got one more client before closing up."

Then without waiting for an answer, Elliot turned on his heel, presumably off to fetch said client, leaving Gilbert to quietly contemplate the situation and reluctantly put out his cigarette and straighten his shirt collar.

Well. I had been in business for all but three years, but I'd seen my share of blondes – and, usually, they're the ones to get mixed up in the worst kinds of messes. But they're also the types with the deepest pockets, and they're not half-bad to look at when the case gets slow either. So don't you look at me; I'm not complaining.

Still, drop-dead gorgeous (and blonde) or not, I sure wasn't about to get snookered by a big pair of innocent baby blues, or sweet-talked into loyal servitude like I did when I was just a gumshoe, no sir! I was gonna charge full price and keep my poker face, that's what!

A disgruntled Elliot reappeared in the doorway, this time with somebody in his wake.

Gilbert's highly attuned detective senses tingled. Clearly, that had to be the client.

"Yeah, so this is..." Elliot gave the client a long look over his shoulder. "What did you say your name was again?"

"I didn't," replied the client cheerfully as he stepped past Elliot into the office. "You didn't ask."

Gilbert's eyes nearly popped out of his head, and his jaw dropped ever so slightly.

_...so maybe I won't charge full price after all._

Elliot's jaw also dropped but for another reason entirely, though he quickly pulled himself together and demanded, "I'm asking now! Who are you?"

"My name is Oz," chirped the blonde. Then to Gilbert, "Thank you for seeing my like this, Raven-san."

Not quite trusting himself to speak in the presence of this... this _golden light_, Gilbert lamely gestured to the visitor's chair, which Oz gracefully accepted.

"Well then. This _Oz_—" spat Elliot with enough contempt to floor a raging boar, "—has no appointment, but says he'll make the consultation worth your while."

Oz smiled... oh, and _how_ he smiled. Gilbert gulped.

"Whatever _that's_ supposed to mean," continued Elliot sourly. "Sounds a bit suspicious if you ask me."

"E-Elliot!" exclaimed Gilbert.

"It's alright." Oz shrugged. "What your secretary says is true. I didn't make an appointment."

"_S_-_SECRETARY_?!" spluttered Elliot, offended beyond belief. "I... I'M NOT HIS DAMN SECRETARY!"

Oz cocked his head to the side. "But if you're not Raven-san's secretary, then who are you?"

Gilbert spoke up, not needing to see the murder in Elliot's eyes to know that it was there. "Elliot is my younger brother."

"Oh." Oz took a moment to turn this new fact over in his mind, before facing Raven's unhappy sibling with hopeful eyes. "Then you have to help me too!"

Elliot stared at Oz as if the latter was deranged. "Hell no! I'm out of here."

"But..." Oz's eyes welled up with unshed tears. "But I haven't even read them yet!"

Elliot sighed; Leo was so going to pay for insisting that he paid Gilbert a visit in the evening. And against his better judgement, he asked, "Read what?"

"My books!" exclaimed Oz dramatically. "My _The Holy Knight_ special collector's editions have been stolen! Three whole shelves, gone!"

"Y-You actually _own_ the special collector's editions…" Elliot could hardly believe his ears. "And you let them get stolen? HAVE YOU NO SHAME?!"

Oz blinked. "But—"

"No excuses!"

_Oh boy_. Gilbert lit another cigarette. This was turning into one hell of a night.


	9. Teach Me, Gilbert-sensei!

Author's Note: Not an AU, but definitely super silly. So please excuse me while my brain is off on vacation ^.^;;

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pandora Hearts_.

* * *

**Teach Me, Gilbert-sensei!**

(Or otherwise known as 'The One in Which Oz Wants to Learn How to Fight')

#

"Would you care for some more tea, Ojou-sama?" queried Break with his usual gusto. "Or may I tempt you with some strawberry cake? It's delicious."

"You say that about all sweet things," pointed Sharon out between dainty sips of afternoon tea, as usual turning a blind eye to her companion's more or less _laissez-faire _attitude to proper table manners.

"Ah. But only because it's true~!" chirped Break cheerfully, while stabbing savagely at the piece of pink, fluffy cake on his plate.

Sharon sighed. Xerx-nii was truly incorrigible. "…I worry about you, sometimes," she admitted at length.

"About me?" Break's voice grew mischievous. "Ojou-sama is much to kind… isn't that right, Emily?"

The creepy doll perched on his shoulder nodded. "Uh-huh! Sweet like sugar!" it crooned. "Ne, ne, shouldn't we take a bite just to make sure?"

"B-Break!" exclaimed Sharon indignantly, vaguely worried, because she wouldn't _quite_ put it past her Xerx-nii to one day experiment with cannibalism.

"Tut tut, Emily…" Break wagged a slim finger playfully in front of Emily's beady little eyes. "You mustn't frighten Ojou-sama like that. Fret not, Ojou-sama! You I must leave alone, or Shelly-sama would surely have my head."

"Certainly!" agreed Sharon readily, with a wicked glint in her pretty eyes. "…unless Grandmother got to you first, that is."

"Oh yes, and that would get rather messy," sighed the Mad Hatter dramatically. "It leaves me no choice but to make do with life's simpler delicacies, wouldn't you agree, Ojou-sama?"

"Today has been unusually peaceful," said Sharon instead, calmly, deliberately ignoring Xerx-nii's incessant teasing.

"Indeed." Break regarded the piece of red, juicy fruit impaled on the pointy end of his silver fork, thoughtfully, before plopping it into his mouth. "Well. That probably won't last for long."

"No." Sharon smiled knowingly. "I suppose not."

And at that moment, right on cue, the door was violently wrenched open; a tall, dark figure quickly slipping inside, soundlessly closing it behind him.

"If it isn't our own dear Raven," cooed Break affectionately, completely unperturbed by the sudden interruption; and the figure huddling pathetically by the door promptly froze. "And to what do we owe this pleasant surprise? Were you feeling lonely, perhaps?"

"It's not like that!" snapped Gilbert in a very quiet voice, golden eyes darting around the room anxiously. "I mean—"

_"Giiiiil!"_

Gilbert visibly paled.

"…Oz-sama seems to be looking for you," commented Sharon kindly, watching Gilbert curiously from behind her long lashes. "Will you not go to him?"

Gilbert shook his shaggy head of hair furiously.

"Maa, maa, I wonder, Emily…" Break grinned. "Has Raven been a naughty boy?"

Gilbert didn't say, but his angry glare promised a fate far worse than death.

_"Gilbert, where aaaaare you?"_

Oz-sama was closing in on them, thought Sharon bemusedly to herself; also noting the sudden surge of desperation in poor Gilbert's eyes.

"I-I am NOT here and you have NOT seen me, understood?!" hissed the Nightray scion, just as he dove head-first under the table.

"Yes, yes," swore Break noncommittally, carefully smoothing out the ruffled tablecloth left in his wake. "Leave it to us."

_"—Gil?"_

The door opened, and Oz poked his blonde head into the room. "Oh." He frowned, but disappointment quickly gave way to a sunny smile. "Sharon-chan, Break!"

"Good afternoon, Oz-kun," greeted him Break warmly. "It's a bit late, but would you care to join us for tea?"

"Um. No thank you," declined Oz politely. "Actually, I was looking for Gil."

Sharon smiled into her teacup as Break arched a delicate eyebrow. "Gilbert?" he questioned.

Oz nodded. "Yes. Have you seen him?" he asked, full of hope.

"Hm. I wonder…" Break pretended to think hard. "Ne, Emily, what do you think?"

"We've seen him, we've seen him!" screeched the doll viciously. "We've DEFINITELY seen him!"

"Ah. Oh yes, I remember now!" Break paused dramatically, then proudly announced, "He's right here."

Oz looked around the room with much scepticism. "Gil is here?" he asked, clearly puzzled.

"Hiding under the table, in fact," clarified Break helpfully, "and shivering like a lost bunny rabbit. Oz-kun, what on earth have you been doing to him?"

"Break, you bastard!" spat Gilbert vehemently, slowly crawling into view. "You _promised_—"

"Gil!" cheered Oz. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"I-I…" Gilbert stiffly drew himself up to his full height, then slumped against the wall in defeat. "It's not a good idea," he declared with finality.

"Eh?!" Oz frowned. "Why not?"

"B-Because it just _isn't_!" exclaimed Gilbert, now gesticulating wildly. "Bocchan shouldn't have to bother with such things!"

Sharon and Break exchanged a quick look, the former asking, "Oz-sama wishes you to teach him what?"

"He…" began Gilbert unhappily from under the wide brim of his hat, looking very much like the proverbial kicked puppy. "He wants me to t-teach him… t-to teach him… to teach him how to fight!"

Break sighed, deeply disappointed at the sudden turn of events. Self-defence. How anticlimactic. "And…?"

"Exactly!" Oz mega-pouted at his stubborn servant. "Gil has his guns, Break his sword... I mean, _even_ Sharon-chan—"

There was the sudden, sharp clink of china against china. "'Even Sharon-chan' what, Oz-sama?" asked Sharon dangerously.

Oz involuntarily took half a step back, laughing nervously. "N-Nothing, Sharon-chan! Nothing at all."

"…well then." Sharon gracefully put down her fearsome harisen. "Carry on."

And Oz promptly resumed with his heartfelt whining. "Gil~"

"No," told him Gilbert firmly. "It's too dangerous. Besides, don't you have the stupid rabbit for that sort of thing?"

Oz gasped. "I can't believe Gil would say something like that!" he exclaimed.

Gilbert looked every inch as confused as he felt. "Like wha—"

"Or do you really want me gone that badly, Gil?"

By now, Oz's eyes were welling up magnificently with unshed tears, and Gilbert promptly gave in to his rising panic. "N-No, of course I don't!" he stuttered fearfully. "What—"

"My, my…" sighed Break, gleefully adding his two cents to the ridiculous drama unfolding in front of him. "Raven has really grown heartless, suggesting that Oz-kun uses the B-Rabbit's powers like that…"

Gilbert stared. "What do you m—"

"Maa, Oz-kun is an illegal contractor," explained Break calmly, almost regretting the irreversible damage they were jointly inflicting on Gilbert's surprisingly frail psyche. "Remember?"

"Of course I do, but—_wait_, no! I didn't mean…" Gilbert immediately fell to his knees in front of Oz. "I swear, I would _never_—"

"I know you wouldn't, Gil." Oz was smiling down at the kneeling adult, triumphantly, and with every trace of tears miraculously gone. "You are, after all, my most precious servant."

—what was this _kindness_? Gilbert was seriously lost for words. "I-I…" he choked out. "Bocchan…"

"Gil, how many times have I asked you to call me Oz?"

Gilbert stared at the pale hand held out to him, suddenly feeling like he was twelve years old all over again. "…Oz," he mumbled embarrassedly.

Oz's smile was brilliant. "Yes, Gil?"

"O-Oz!" repeated Gilbert with great joy, as the tiny Oz somehow hauled him to his feet.

"Ne, Gil…" continued Oz sweetly. "Teach me how to fight!"

As expected, Gilbert immediately sunk back into dark depression.

Break cleared his throat. "Let me, Oz-kun," he offered smoothly. "After all, I taught Gilbert all he knows. Ne, Gilbert?"

"That—!" Gilbert shuddered, clearly remembering the hardships and terror of his younger years. "That wasn't training!"

"Still so cute, aren't you, Gilbert?" observed Break merrily. "Ne, I'll gladly help you with basic self-defence, Oz-kun."

"NO! Absolutely not!" Gilbert pointed at the Mad Hatter accusingly. "YOU will not help. YOU do not help. YOU just make things worse!"

"Oh how ungrateful," stage-whispered Break sadly to Emily, who nodded in agreement.

"So… that means you'll do it, right?" Oz's baby-blues were big and pleading. "Right, Gil? _Right_?"

Gilbert squirmed under the massive weight of his own conscience and Oz's eyes. "Um, I…"

"Great!" cheered Oz loudly, choosing to interpret the hesitation as a yes. "Come on then! Let's fight!"


End file.
